


Never Reveal a Source

by blackredpanda



Category: This War of Mine (Video Game)
Genre: Barter Economics, Canon-typical language, Gen, Secrets, moral crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 20:59:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18557758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackredpanda/pseuds/blackredpanda
Summary: Katia is good at getting what people need, especially if it keeps her companions safe.All fair trades, of course...





	Never Reveal a Source

"If you live in Pogoren, be advised to remain at home and lock your doors. Armed bands have taken to the streets."

"That doesn't sound good," Pavle said, as he leaned in to hear if the scratchy voice on their makeshift radio would say anything else.

"An understatement," Bruno grumbled. "I've seen them. That night, when you two said I should help that woman down the street board up her windows. Groups of three or four, all with guns."

"Well..." Pavle closed his eyes and tried to imagine how they might fend off these robbers. "We've boarded up all the holes in our shelter. We just need to guard the door."

"Yes, but with only the hatchet – and the shovel, if you or Katia don't take it – if they were determined – "

Pavle rubbed the back of his head and made a vague gesture at the moonshine still Bruno was tending. "Maybe we can offer them booze to leave us alone?"

"No. They'd learn they can intimidate us, and they'd just be back the next night. And we need to trade this for food. We ate everything we had this morning, remember?"

"There _is_ something we can do," Katia cut in. She was studying the rough map of the city they'd sketched on the wall to keep track of where they thought they could scavenge or trade for supplies. "I'll take that moonshine with me tonight."

"Where are you going?" Pavle asked. Before he could follow her gaze on the map, Katia turned about, her face grim.

"I'll be fine," she said. "You two should stay safe."

She would take no further questions.

 

* * *

 

The military outpost was impossible to miss. A chain-link fence, topped with razor wire, marked the perimeter of the compound, enclosing the barracks and a few outlying sheds. Closer to Katia was the watchtower guarding the only entrance. As she stepped into the tower's blinding searchlights, she squinted and shielded her eyes; she needed to be able to see the sentries. The soldier in the lookout tensed and shot a look at her. She froze, shrinking down and holding her hands up. Seeing this, the soldier huffed and turned away to scan for actual threats. Meanwhile, the young man sitting in the inspection room at the base of the tower – Bojan, the rumours had called him – kept on shuffling cards as he glanced up. Katia straightened and took several deep breaths.

If these soldiers were willing to let civilians approach, they were saints compared to some of her anonymous sources, back in the day.

"Watch it," Bojan growled as she strode in. "This is a restricted area. Better have some good stuff to trade."

"I do." Katia smiled at him and held out a bottle of moonshine, as casually as if she was interviewing him over coffee in some warm, sunlit suburban cafe. "This is the best booze you'll find in the city now."

"Meaning it's shit."

"I mean what I said. Please, try it."

Bojan seized the bottle from her and took a swig. He grimaced and swallowed hard, but he didn't choke and his eyes didn't water, and he seemed surprised by that. Katia stifled a laugh by coughing politely. She had said the truth, and that was because Bruno never allowed her or Pavle to touch the moonshine still.

"While I'm here, you are not selling anyone that – devil's piss," Bruno had spat, after tasting their first and last attempt. "War or no, I still have my pride."

"And I have more," Katia continued, adding three bottles from her pack.

"What do you want for that?"

Bojan was trying to stare her down, but his eyes kept flickering towards the moonshine.

Good.

She gestured at the rifle and shotgun someone had left leaning against the wall. "I'd like those."

At that, Bojan took a deep breath, and his glare grew icy with fresh suspicion. "You have a lot of nerve, girl."

"That's my final offer." Katia held his gaze as she clenched her fists to keep her hands from shaking. "Just those two old guns, and you can have all four bottles." She tilted her head and said her next words softly, but clearly. "Plenty for a round of drinks with friends, like in the old days."

Bojan's scowl deepened. Katia really didn't blame him. Trading military-issued weapons with civilians would violate every rule in the book. But then again, so did half of the things the army had done in Pogoren since the siege began... and Bojan looked like he needed something to take his mind off that.

"Fuck it." He snatched up the firearms and shoved them at Katia. "Now hand over the goods."

A sudden thought struck her. "Throw in some ammo and I'll be back this week."

Only her quick reflexes saved her from dropping the box of shotgun shells he slung at her.

 

* * *

 

"Pavle!" Katia gasped.

The long cut on Pavle's forehead was beaded with dark, still-sticky clots, and his white bandana was stained with rust-brown patches of dried blood. Despite that, he smiled weakly as he opened the door for her. "It's good to see you too."

"I... wasn't fast enough when the raiders pushed their way in." Bruno fixed his eyes on the floor.

"You need to bandage that up..."

Pavle waved off Katia's concern and Bruno's half-apology. "Don't worry about me... it's just a flesh wound. At least we stopped them from stealing our stuff. What did you get?"

"Something we need." As she spoke, Katia revealed a worn, but fully functional shotgun and an ammunition box. "Use this next time. And use as much ammo as you have to."

The men were silent for several seconds before Pavle managed to speak. "Where did you...?"

Katia shrugged. "Someone gave me a good deal."

Pavle decided not to press further. Bruno, however, had another problem for them.

"We still need to find food, then."

"...I could scavenge the warehouse," Pavle offered. "If the bandits there spot me, I can outrun them. Or maybe – "

"No need," Katia insisted. "I've thought about that. I promise I'll take care of it tonight."

Then she headed to bed for the morning.

 

* * *

 

Katia crept carefully along the hallways of the ruined school. Even though the building had been shelled, she only had to pick her way past small piles of rubble, since the rebels hiding out here had cleared the corridors they used. If she'd heard right, Viktor – the leader of this rebel cell – would barter with civilians in a classroom on the first floor. She found the room and entered, keeping her hands in sight and making no sudden movements.

"This school is held by Vyseni militia," announced a man in a black mask. This must be Viktor. "You can't go further, but we can trade. What have you got?"

"Would you be interested in this?" Slowly, Katia drew out the rifle she had left in her pack, making sure the muzzle was pointed at the ground as she held it up for Viktor to see.

" _Shit._ How – where did you – " Then Viktor coughed. A man in his position knew that some questions were impolitic. "I mean – that is exactly what we need! With that, one more man can fight for our freedom."

Katia clutched the rifle and closed her eyes tight to suppress her shudder. If Viktor's men chose to fight, and kill, and get themselves killed – that was their business, wasn't it? Her business was to make sure Pavle would see his wife and son again, and Bruno his old friend, and she her parents, if they were alive; and that meant not taking unnecessary risks to defend their shelter or hunt for supplies. She had to stick to her plan.

"So..." She struggled to push the words past her dry mouth. "You can have it for... this meat, these carrots, and... these bags of sugar," she said, gathering her selections on the table in front of Viktor.

"You have a deal." Viktor's mask did nothing to hide the eager gleam in his eyes when he reached for the rifle. "Thank you for supporting our cause!"

"...I'm just glad we can all get what we need."

 

* * *

 

"I don't know how you do it, Bruno. This tastes like slow-roasted chicken." Pavle took another bite from a juicy leg that definitely had not belonged to any kind of bird. "When all this is over, I should buy my wife your cookbook."

Bruno cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. "If we had some onions – but these days, that only happens in my dreams. At least we have something to eat," he said, turning to Katia.

"Mm," Pavle agreed. "Where did you find this?"

Katia had finished her share and was staring at her plate.

"Katia? Are you all right? ...Did you have to – "

"It was a fair trade," she replied, shaking off her trance. "And not like _that_ ," she added when she caught Pavle's horrified look. "I can also get bandages next time, so please... take care of yourself."

"I will, I will," he said, standing up and trudging to their medicine stash in the next room. For once, Bruno didn't argue about saving their bandages for a real emergency.

Perhaps Katia had just been tired, Pavle thought. If she could keep this up, things would turn out fine. Right?

But as she wandered off to sleep, she stopped to check the moonshine still, even though Bruno had only just put in the new batch of sugar.

**Author's Note:**

> Survivor morale is not affected when you do this, but I felt like I should feel bad.
> 
> Reads and kudos always appreciated. All comments welcome, including but not limited to single words, short comments, essays, questions, or constructive criticism.


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